


16 Days

by MashiarasDream



Series: Yours!verse [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alpha!Balthazar, Alpha!Jess, Alpha!Sam, Angst, Baby Mary, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mpreg, Omega!Gabriel, a/b/o dynamics, alpha!cas, established relationships - Freeform, omega!dean, really mostly angst and pain, time stamp 9 for Yours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 11:52:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6078318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MashiarasDream/pseuds/MashiarasDream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, the road so far doesn’t prepare you for what’s ahead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	16 Days

**Author's Note:**

> So I said that I would tag it if something bad actually happened. Something bad actually happens. Please heed the minor character death tag. If you feel the need to know who is okay and who is not before reading this installment go to the endnotes, I’ll write it out there.

**Day -1**

The wind whips at them, though it is a spring wind at least, bringing with it salt and little droplets of ocean but no hint of rain. They are walking where the wet sand is firm, but far enough away that the crash of the waves doesn’t catch them. It’s a shame that he won’t be able to feel the water crash against his naked toes, but unsurprisingly Cas is strictly against taking off their shoes.

_‘There’s shells and glass shards and a million other sources of infection, Dean! It’s not safe.’_

It’s a miracle that they’ve made it out to the beach at all.

Dean squats down to let his hand dangle in the water. He can’t have been at the ocean and not at least have felt the water.

“Is it cold?” Cas asks him, though the wind carries his words away.

“Yeah,” Dean answers. “Wouldn’t mind going skinny dipping in the ocean with you someday.” He adds an intentional smirk, though they both know it’s for show, not because he feels it.

But Cas huffs and instead of an answer makes sure to secure the perimeter.

“Come on, Cas,” Dean sighs and gets back up, “at least pretend to play along.”

But nope, it’s too much to ask. Of course it is. Cas keeps staring into the distance, tracking the few people that are anywhere in sight.

“Cas, _honey_ ,” Dean pours his frustration into a too sweet tone, “there is no one around. Zero nada absolutely no people. We’ve cut our stay in Savannah short so we would be somewhere with less people. Can you now _please_ make the effort to try and chill out. Cause I’ve never actually been to a frikking beach before. So I’d like you to take my hand and walk with me and pretend it is romantic.”

He doesn’t wait for Cas’ reaction, just wraps his ocean-wet fingers around his mate’s and drags him along. It takes a moment or two before Cas’ resistance subsides. Before he lets himself be dragged and then falls in step voluntarily. Before they find a rhythm that they can share.

“You’re scared. I get it, Cas,” Dean says after a while, though he looks out over the ocean, not at Cas. “I’m scared, too. But you gotta trust me to know my own limits.”

“But Pamela said…”

“I know,” Dean interrupts because he doesn’t want to hear it again. “And that’s why we’re here now, right? Why we haven’t waited for summer. Why we’ve rather postponed Mary’s Naming Ceremony so that we could have a few days to ourselves before Pam’s going to put me on 24 hour surveillance.”

Cas grumbles something that’s probably agreement. Or not. Who even knows these days.

“Pam also said some relaxation would do us a world of good. So here’s me, relaxing.” He sweeps his hand out to the side, an overdramatic gesture that is a lie but that gets a snort which is more than usual right now.

It’s not enough, though. “If something happens out here, though,…”

“Then you’re going to call an ambulance and keep me alive until it’s here.”

It’s the right thing to say obviously, giving Cas a concrete plan instead of an empty promise of _nothing is going to happen_ , because Cas checks his cell to make sure he’s got reception and then he nods. “Alright.”

“Alright,” Dean echoes.

They fall back into silence. There aren’t many people out and the further away from the town they walk, the less people there are. There’s an old lighthouse a couple of miles down the beach, and Dean has hopes of actually making it there without Cas freaking out again, even though his mate tenses every time someone shows up at the horizon, and he even snarls at a dog who comes close, even though the dog clearly couldn’t care less about them.

At least the brochures haven’t lied when they said the island was laid back about societal rules. No one bats an eye that Dean and Cas walking side by side, and Dean’s seen more than one couple kissing. Yeah, most of them were either teens or in college, the older couples generally behaving more respectably, but it’s still something that wouldn’t occur this openly in most other places. Dean would make us of the opportunity, too, if it wasn’t for the way they are with each other right now.

Dean wraps the scarf Cas insisted he wear tighter around his neck, hiding half his face in it. The stiff wind means that his scent is going to be blown away before Cas can catch it and that’s probably for the better. They upset each other with their brooding these days, but Dean doesn’t think he can do anything but brood right this second. Because he’s imagined this differently. And while he’s imagined a lot of things in his life differently, this one dream actually had a chance of coming true the way he wanted it to.

Up until the morning of the first ultrasound.

Dean sighs. There’s nothing much he can do about any of it, apart from keeping Cas as calm as he can, for the sake of the pack more than for his own. Dean is mindful of them and their needs. But his patience is beginning to wear thin and he’s got five more months to get through, which are shaping up to progressively get worse.

Already, the radius in which he can freely move has shrunken down from the whole pack grounds to predefined routes to specific appointments. Won’t be long before Cas insists on Dean having a chaperone with him. It’ll be Meg, most likely, and Dean can’t express how much he doesn’t look forward to that. But it’ll still be better than when Cas finally makes him stay in the manor and then his bed. If it’s even going to be his own bed and not some hospital bed somewhere.

It’s an escalation with a warning, and one that is probably necessary and that he’s agreed to, but that doesn’t make him feel better about it. Being condemned to months of 24 hour surveillance and bed rest is not Dean’s idea of how life should be.

But.

But risking the life of his children is also not his idea of how life should be. So he’s going along. Because Pam said it was the safest option. Because she said that even with all the precautions they can possibly take it’s still – but his mind kind of blocks that part out, not really wanting it repeated.

They are about a quarter of a mile from the lighthouse when Dean needs a break. That is, he could go on, but Pam said that he should stop at the first sign of discomfort, so he does. “Cas, can we find a place to sit for a minute?”

Dean doesn’t need Cas’ scent to know that the worry increases tenfold. It’s amazing really, because the worry is strong enough to drown them both already. “Of course, Dean. Let’s find a spot out of the wind.”

So they do. There’s a log, big enough to sit on, apparently carried here during a storm by the ocean, and it’s conveniently located in the wind shadow of the levee.

Cas takes his trench-coat off and drapes it over the wood.

“It’ll get dirty.”

“But it’ll be warmer and no chance of splinters.”

“I’m wearing jeans, Cas, my butt won’t get splinters.”

“But your hands might.”

Dean gives up because he never wins arguments of this type and he’s too exhausted to try. He sits down gingerly, not really sure of the stability of the trunk. But everything seems to hold up fine, even when Cas takes the place next to him.

They stare out at the ocean for a while. Dean’s always kind of expected moments like this to be extra quiet. But the wind’s howling and the waves are crashing and the seagulls are taking it all as an invitation to play and caw as loudly as possible.

Still, all the noise in the world is not enough to fill the silence between them. Dean’s got no way of breaking it but what he can do is lean a little closer, so he does. Cas’ arm comes up around his waist automatically, drawing him in until he’s cushioned at Cas’ side.

“Did we make the right choice?” Cas asks, voice hushed enough that the wind almost takes it away.

Dean doesn’t need to ask about what. He only wishes he could give Cas another answer than the one he has. “I don’t know, Cas. I wish I did.”

He feels Cas nod against him, but he doesn’t say anything else.

“We should think of names,” Dean blurts.

“Makes no sense yet,” Cas answers flatly.

“I know but…” This is so not going to make Cas feel any better. “I want them to have names. They shouldn’t have to…” _die without names_. But Dean can’t get himself to say that. “They should have names.”

“It’ll make us more attached.”

“We’re already attached, Cas. They’ve been growing in me for four months. I don’t think I can get more attached than that.”

Cas sighs but he gives in. “What were you thinking of?”

“Your family,” Dean says immediately. “Can’t have all the rugrats named after my family.”

“You know that there aren’t exactly many people that I would name a child after in my family, right?”

“What about your Dad?” Dean asks.

“No,” Cas shakes his head. “Not naming my child after someone who ran.”

“I ran,” Dean says.

“That’s different. You were protecting someone.”

“So was your Dad.”

“He was protecting no one.”

“But he thought he was. He wanted to save the pack from himself.”

“You were protecting Sam from an outside threat, not from yourself, so it’s still different.”

Have their arguments always been this tedious? “Not your father then,” Dean gives in. “Does anyone else come to mind?”

“We’re not even sure it’s going to be boys.”

“Pam was 80% certain.”

“That leaves a one in five chance that she’s wrong.”

“Indulge me, Cas? We can always find new names if it turns out that it was indeed too early to see it clearly on the image.”

Cas sighs. “I thought I saw it, too,” he admits grudgingly.

“Hey,” Dean lays a hand on Cas’ knee. “No grieving yet. That’s what we said. We’re going to be hopeful until we’re proven wrong.”

“Cause otherwise we don’t need to try this at all… Yeah, I remember, Dean.” Not that either of them could have gone through with the other option.

“Other people’s chances are worse than ours,” he reminds his mate. Or maybe himself.

“Joshua,” Cas says.

“What? Who’s that?”

“My father’s gardener.”

“You want to name a child after your gardener?” Dean asks incredulously.

“Well, I’m not going to name them Zachariah. I actually liked Joshua. He was one of the wisest people in the house. And he knew how to survive.”

That’s an argument that Dean has nothing much to say to. The pups will need that. “Anyone else who fits that criteria?”

“Sam and Dean,” Cas says without missing a beat.

“Idjit,” Dean mumbles. “And that’s not your family side anyway.”

“Are you doubting that you are my family?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “You going to propose _Bobby_ next?”

Cas raises his eyebrows. “Is that something you’ve been thinking about?”

“What? No. Maybe. I don’t know,” Dean gripes. “What about _Gabriel_?”

“You sure you want that? I mean, scientifically speaking ‘nomen est omen’ is bullshit but sometimes it feels like you can never be too careful.”

Against his will, that makes Dean chuckle. “Okay, conceding the point. I never want to meet a teenage Gabe.”

Cas nods empathically. “I had the pleasure and no thank you, not again. Though the meaning of the name is nice at least.”

“So? What’s it mean?” Dean asks.

“It’s Hebrew. It means _God is my strength_.”

“Hmm,” Dean says noncommittally because he is pretty sure he knows a few choice words that Gabe would have to say about that. “What does _Castiel_ mean?” he asks instead.

“ _Shield of God_ ,” Cas answers without hesitation but with a bit of a cringe.

And yeah, Cas has strayed away from the Alpha Church roots that are probably responsible for him getting this name. But still, “Well, it’s not wrong. You’ve been the shield that protects your pack.”

“I am quite sure that that is not the intention behind the name.”

Dean shrugs because he’s not debating it but it makes no difference. “Protecting people is a good thing in my book. Pretty sure God can protect himself. Or herself. Or whatever.” And before the topic can drift too deeply into the religious, he adds, “So, any other names with cool meanings that are on the list?”

Cas thinks about it for a bit, then he suddenly startles into a laugh. “Well, there’s _Thomas_.”

The unexpected laughter almost rattles Dean. They haven’t been laughing very much lately. But he smiles back, “Care to share the joke?”

“It means _twin_ ,” Cas explains, still laughing a little.

Dean snorts, too. “Alright, yeah, you explain that one when he’s 16. ‘My brother is _blessed by God_ and you named me _twin_? A pun, that’s all you had for me?’”

But he doesn’t even make it through the second part of the sentence before their laughter dies. _When he’s 16._ Shouldn’t have said that.

“ _Benedict_ ,” Cas says quietly. “ _Blessed_. In the Latin.”

“Benedict, huh?” Dean repeats thoughtfully. “Ben. Always liked the name. So I’d have no problem with that.”

“Me, either,” Cas smiles shyly.

“Even if the kids at school shorten it to Benny?” Dean asks because that’s a definite possibility.

“I’ll be too glad that he lived to go to school to get jealous over a name. I promise.”

“Okay,” Dean answers because really what is there to say to that? “So that’s one name settled?”

“I think so,” Cas agrees.

“Leaves the other one. Cas Junior?”

“Oh God, please no,” Cas fends that off immediately. “Let’s make sure all our kids have names everyone can pronounce.”

“Hey, your name’s kind of cool. Shield and everything.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. So what about the other name? Ideas?”

“Still waiting on any traditional names from your family. Guessing Ben isn’t one of those, either. It lacks the angelic touch,” Dean teases. “Though a lot of the angels are already out I gather. Cause we said no Gabriel and no Castiel, and I’m hoping very much that you’re not going to propose Michael or Lucifer.”

“I’m not,” Cas promises. “Actually, I wanted to come back to one of the other proposals.”

“Which one?”

“Robert.”

“Bobby? Really?”

“Well, we don’t have to shorten it to Bobby, we can go with Rob or Robbie if it gets confusing.”

“Cas,” Dean hesitates. “Why would you propose that? That’s very definitely not your family side.”

“But it’s family,” Cas answers.

“Family don’t end in blood,” Dean quotes what Bobby’s said more than once to him over the years. Usually when he wanted to bully him into stuff like getting his GED and hoped that it would make Dean listen.

“That’s right,” Cas nods. “It’s not only because of you. Even though I know what he’s done for you. But it’s also – when I had to be the shield for our pack, he was the one who had my back. Who kept the pack together. He fought as hard as me to get to where we are today. He is a brave man, Dean. One of the bravest I know.”

“Our pup will need to be brave.”

“Yes,” Cas nods. “Brave and hardy and it can’t give up. Robert is a good name for that. It sounds like someone who doesn’t give up.”

“Benedict and Robert,” Dean lets the names roll off of his tongue, testing them out. “Rob and Ben.” It sounds _right_ somehow. “Alright. You two good with that, too?” He splays a hand over his belly. Since last week, he every so often gets a feeling like there is movement. But it’s subdued, more like tension and a fluttering in his belly than the explicit kicks that Mary made herself known with. It’s not an indication of a problem, according to Pam, as it’s still early. Another two weeks and then movements should get more noticeable. The operative word being _should_. He doesn’t say any of that, though just smiles a little. “There seems to be no immediate protest. I take that as a Yes. Rob and Ben it is.”

“Another nine weeks,” Cas says. “Then they have a chance.”

“Yeah,” Dean nods. He is not likely to forget that. Because nine weeks is a fucking long time but it’s still only the bare minimum to reach so that the hospital will even try to keep the pups alive. And until then, the risk is increasing with every passing week.

“That’s only two months,” Cas says, but his voice sounds forlorn and Dean has no illusions about whether or not Cas actually feels the confidence that the sentence is supposed to express.

Instead of calling his mate out for it, though, he lets the silence settle back over them. It’s easier, giving in to the silence that has crept in over the past few months, becoming ever more persistent.

Though it wasn’t even them who’d set it off. It was Pam, that day when there had been two heartbeats. She’d gone quiet and instead of smiling and congratulating them, she’d said, _‘Everything is fine, but I need to look a few things up. I need you to come back in next week.’_

But of course Dean had found Cas hunched over his laptop that night, sifting through medical papers. But when Dean asked what he’d found out, Cas only shook his head. _‘Let’s wait what Dr. Barnes has to say.’_ Dr. Barnes. Not Pamela.

The silence had already gotten a hold of them.

 _‘You need to make a decision.’_ Pam hadn’t beat around the bush when they’d come back. _‘Dean’s condition is manageable but it’s a lot more manageable if there’s only one pup. A lot more.’_

Cas had nodded, grim and composed, the words not a surprise for him, while Dean’s heart had stopped beating at the proposition in her words.

 _‘How much would it increase our chances that everything goes well?’_ Cas had asked.

_‘From maybe 50% to 90%. Though you might want a second opinion. I’m a general practitioner after all, not a specialist.’_

_‘No,’_ Dean had shouted, _‘No, I’m not doing that!’_

It was the last and only time any of them had gotten loud. Even their anger is silent these days.

They still went and got that second opinion of course, at the hospital where Mary got born. The second opinion had confirmed what Pam had already told them. The risk of ruptures increases exponentially with the number of pups. Partial abortion is recommended.

Even the word _partial abortion_ makes Dean spread his hand defensively over his belly. They had wanted this. They had taken the risk and made this happen. How could they now decide that either Rob or Ben was the one who was too much? The one that didn’t deserve to live? They couldn’t decide that. Even if not deciding on one pup over the other meant gambling with the lives of both.

It had been shitty options from the start.

The anger courses through Dean’s veins again and he takes deliberate deep breaths to calm himself down. No stress. Keep calm. It’s easier said than done.

Especially when his phone rings, startling him enough that he almost falls off the log.

“That’s weird. It’s Sam and he knows we’re on vacation,” Dean frowns at the caller ID before taking the call.

 

**Day 0**

Dean doesn’t want to fly. Not ever. He definitely doesn’t want to do it while pregnant. And he doesn’t want to fly to a destination where there will only be more pain waiting for him. But he grits his teeth and holds onto Cas’ hand hard enough that he thinks he hears the bones grind. But Cas doesn’t complain. He’s pale and stoic and Dean is glad about it. If Cas wasn’t composed, there was no way Dean’s going to get through this.

As it is, Cas explains very calmly to the lady at the airline desk that yes, he is aware that they have last minute tickets but that his mate is pregnant and a nervous flyer, and he will not, under any circumstances, be parted from him. The lady at the desk wants to argue, Dean can see it. She wants to say that the plane is crowded and that their tickets are for the larger gender-separated area in the back of the plane, not the mixed section in front. She wants to. But she looks at Dean, miserable and very visibly pregnant, sniffs the air unobtrusively, and instead lets out a long sigh and starts typing things into her keyboard. Five minutes later Dean has a ticket for a window seat with Cas next to him.

It is that, why Dean makes it on board of the plane without turning around and running. Or throwing up. He counts it as a win even as he nervously checks his phone. No new message. No update.

He sends a quick text.

_Dean: On the plane now. Will be there in a few hours. Hold on._

It’s not enough. But it’s all he can do because now a friendly voice over the speaker system tells them to shut off all electronic equipment for the take-off. Dean’s stomach rebels but he closes his eyes and does the breathing exercises Pam’s told him to do to keep himself calm.

It works to a degree. Cas’ hand that he’s still got grabbed like a vice, is probably also a good part of it. He’d lean closer, but Cas’ calm is superficial at best. His worry pierces the air, and leaning closer will provide no comfort right now, only additional stress.

The cabin crew gives the safety instructions, but they fly right over Dean’s head. All that he remembers is that three rows behind him is the emergency exit. Always count the rows to the emergency exit because in an emergency there might be smoke and then you don’t see.

And okay, thinking about emergencies does not help. “Three rows, three rows, three rows,” he mumbles a silent mantra. Eyes screwed shut, the acceleration of the plane feels like he’s going to be melded into his seat and then the steep climb into the sky makes him want to throw up and scream and run but instead he keeps breathing and holding on to Cas’ hand and by the time the plane levels out and Dean can open his eyes again, Cas’ fingers are completely white, no blood left in them.

Dean makes the conscious effort to relax his muscles and release Cas from his hold. Which Cas uses for a second, to shake out his hand and get the circulation flowing again, but then he lays his hand back on Dean's.

The cabin crew makes their first round with drinks and peanuts, and Cas gets some water for both of them. Dean’s not even sure, he can stomach that, definitely not when the scent he gets from the steward is _please hug this poor Omega until he feels better_ , while the lady to their right keeps shooting them glances of _oh my God get me out of this guy’s vicinity I’m developing sympathetic fear of flying_.

And Dean would love nothing better than to get out of the lady’s way and be out of this death trap, but instead he grits his teeth and holds on, trying his level-best to at least not crush Cas’ hand anymore.

The weather is friendly at least, giving them few turbulences and keeping the plane steady until they’re near their destination. The descent takes all of Dean’s self-control, the feeling in his stomach even worse than on the ascent. It’s a miracle that he makes it and that they land without him having thrown up his breakfast. He’s going to give himself points for that as soon as he stops shaking.

Only of course, he doesn’t. Cas keeps an arm around him on their way through the airport, making sure Dean is steady and giving a flying fuck about the stares they’re receiving, but the minute Dean’s legs feel like they’re used to the stable Earth again, a wave of anxiety of crashes over him that has his knees give out.

He checks his phone but there’s still no answer. That’s good, right? Bad news travel fast. So nothing’s decided yet. Everything might still work out.

They pick up a rental and stow their luggage. Cas unearths a bottle of water and Dean lets himself be badgered into drinking some. Cas is probably right that Dean needs to hydrate. Cas is usually right about things like this. Also, Cas’ scent calms down a tiny bit every time Dean goes along with his care, and it’s worth it for that alone.

It’s not that far from SFO to Palo Alto, half an hour drive maybe. Dean isn’t sure whether the minutes stretch into eternity or fly by too fast.

The hospital itself belongs to the university, and they find it easily. Dean stares up at it. It looks unthreatening in it’s warm color, windows reflecting in the sun. It’s very different from the grey thing that his Dad died in.

Dean is sure Cas is talking to him while they get out of the car and he definitely notices when Cas takes his hand again, but Dean will be damned if he remembers anything that Cas tells him. It’s like his ears are filled with static that’s drowning out everything else.

They leave the warm glow behind when they enter the building, the sterile white and sharp smell of disinfectants the same as in any other hospital. Dean knows he should keep his eyes down but the disinfectant overlays any other scent and he can’t help looking around, trying to find a glimpse of long hair on a too tall body.

There’s hustle and bustle, but his eyes glide over too short forms until Cas drags him on, through a corridor and up an elevator and through another corridor into a waiting room, and it’s only there that Dean catches sight of the familiar shape.

Sam’s sitting in a bright orange plastic chair but when he notices them, he gets up to greet them. His eyes are hollow and his movements automatic.

Dean breaks away from Cas then, and embraces his brother. Can’t bring himself to let go even after the socially acceptable ten seconds have passed. It’s like all his nightmares have come true, only it’s Sam and Jess starring in the roles of Cas and himself.

 

**Day 1**

It’s 1:01 am when the doctor comes in. Dean can tell it by the minute because It’s easier to look at the clock than to look at the doctor. The man in his scrubs tries to look friendly and unthreatening and Dean can appreciate the effort but it makes no difference. Because the doctor’s face is grey and grave and Dean presses close to his brother, because society be damned.

The Moores stand up from where they’d been sitting in a huddle, keeping themselves apart from the Winchester/Novak clan, not talking to them past an initial greeting. The doctor goes to them. They are Jess’ family after all, Sam is not. Because Sam and Jess haven’t gotten around to getting mated yet and he hasn’t got any rights even to the news, though Jess has been the most important person in his life for two years now and has carried their child for the past eight months.

All that’s left of that now is a doctor who shakes his head when Jess’ parents look at him hopefully. He doesn’t even need words, the headshake is enough.

For a moment, Dean thinks Sam will break down but he doesn’t. His eyes are empty when Dean looks up at him and his face is pale enough that Dean can see no difference to the color of the walls, but Sam keeps his back straight and himself upright without Dean’s help.

He needs to, too, because the doctor comes over to him next. “Come with me, please,” he asks. “You can see him now.” And Sam’s lets go of Dean and follows.

Dean takes a helpless step or two with them, but Cas gets a hand around Dean’s wrist and holds him back. They’ve got no admittance to the ICU. So all Dean can do is stare at his brother’s back until the doors close behind him.

There is crying. The Moores. Cas goes over, gives them his condolences. Dean isn’t sure they appreciate it. Nevertheless, he tries to do the same. But his voice won’t cooperate and his eyes keep flitting away from their faces and to the door where his brother disappeared. Shouldn’t be looking at anyone anyway. Not his place.

There is a hand on his shoulder then, warm and firm, steering him back to their side of the waiting room. Cas tells him to sit down so he does, though he drags Cas down with him at least. Cas doesn’t resist, either, instead drawing Dean in. So Dean lets himself be cushioned against Cas’ shoulder, glad that Cas has chosen seats from which they can see the doors to the ICU.

The crying starts to grate on his nerves real fast. Can’t they mourn quietly? Dean’s mourning, too, but he’s not making such a spectacle out of himself. But he doesn’t say it out loud. As usual, not his place. And they don’t know him from Adam anyway. They’ve never met before.

The minutes crawl by like each of them has made it its mission to be slower than the last. Dean expects the sun to rise any moment, and it’s still not even 2am.

Then the doors open and Sam comes back out.

Dean manages to get his head up from Cas’ shoulder, eyes too dry and hurting because he’s stared at the door for so long.

“He’s alive. And it looks like he’s going to make it. But no more visitors. Not until he’s more stable.” It’s said in the direction of Jessica’s family but he doesn’t go to them, he turns to Cas and Dean instead. “You need to go and catch some sleep. You don’t want to risk anything happening to you because of us.” He presses his keys into Cas’ hand.

Dean has barely opened his mouth to protest when Sam interrupts.

“I’m staying here. There’s forms to be filled in and someone has to keep watch. But it doesn’t need to be all of us.”

“Are you sure?” Cas asks, calm and composed, but his scent says what he doesn’t. It envelops Dean in a cloud of _mine_ and _protect_ that has little to do with Cas’ usual honey. It’s much more potent, protective instincts, kicked into overdrive by their own situation already, now going through the roof.

So Dean closes his mouth again, lets the Alphas hash it out even when he doesn’t like it. Even when he wants to be there every step of the way for his brother. Like he’s always been when his brother needed him.

“Most of what’s to do with her – it’s going to be handled by them anyway. But I need to be here for him,” Sam says and smells of metal and determination under the salty scent of his unshed tears.

“I’m so sorry, Sam,” Cas says, voice more helpless and less firm than it had been.

“Take care of my brother, Cas, okay? I can’t take any more bad news.”

Cas nods and draws Dean up from where they were sitting. Dean wants to refuse, wants to stay and let his brother lean against him, wants to offer him comfort, even the tiniest bit, anything, but there’s steel in Sam’s scent and in his eyes. Arguing will not change a thing.

When Dean hugs him, his brother hugs back but he doesn’t give an inch. Dean understands then. That Sam can’t fall apart. That he’s a father now and needs to keep himself together. So all he says is, “Call us. If anything happens with the pup. Call us.”

Sam nods, and Cas is there immediately, gathering Dean in his arms before leading them out of the room. Dean follows without resistance. Belatedly he notices that they’ve never even learned the pup’s name.

 

The apartment is roomy and nice. Kept in shape. Not that he’s expected his brother and Jess to be slobs. But they’re still in college, they’re allowed some leeway.

Cas and Dean have never been here, their visit postponed and postponed, and the empty apartment seems to silently judge them for it as they go through the rooms one by one, trying to find the guest bedroom.

Every corner and every crevice smells of Sam and Jess, smells of love and happiness, of a home and the start of a family. There’s love in the decorations, too, in the photos on the wall and the colorful art prints to complement them.

But nothing hits Dean as square in the chest as the nursery. Cas is still leading, so he walks in first, and walks right back out. His hand hovers over the light switch but he’s frozen in place. Dean sees it, too, then. Big colorful letters, every one of them a different pattern, standing out in the room of light blues and yellows.

They’re spelling DEAN.

“Fuck.”

His legs carry him a few steps inside the room, eyes disbelieving and not wanting to let go of the letters at the same time. When they finally do, they take in the crib, the mobile above it, the dressing table, but it’s empty, perfunctory, until his eyes end up on a book. A photo album. The cover page is lovingly made, the ocean and the sun captured in the colors and swirls. The title says _Dean’s First Year._

The emptiness inside him shatters then, making his knees give out and leaving him in pieces and tears.

 

Dean has little memory of how he made it to bed. He remembers Cas’ face being as wet as his own, though. But now Cas is up and about, searching his way through the kitchen. Dean watches him for a few moments, trying to figure out what he’s making. Pancakes, Dean decides. He’s trying to make pancakes.

“Your batter’s too runny, you need more flour,” Dean says in lieu of a good morning.

He doesn’t wait for an answer, just takes the flour and shakes some of it into the bowl.

“You’re not even measuring.”

“Don’t need to. The consistency is what’s important.” When he’s satisfied he takes a pan out of the cupboard and puts it on the stove.

“How did you know where that was?” Cas asks surprised.

“This is my brother’s kitchen, Cas.”

“He’s using the same system you’ve always used,” Cas says in sudden realization.

“Yeah,” Dean nods, “seems so.” He opens one of the overhead cupboards, and yep, tall glasses and mugs. He takes out two of each.

“We don’t.”

“No, we don’t,” Dean agrees.

“I’ve never even thought about this,” Cas says and sounds appalled with himself.

Dean looks up from where he’s filling orange juice into the glasses. “It’s a kitchen, Cas. Just a kitchen.”

“I should have thought about it,” Cas insists.

And that’s quite enough. “Okay, Cas, stop.” Dean turns the flame on the stove back down. “What’s wrong?”

Apart from everything. Apart from that Jess is dead and Dean sees her coming around the corner of the hallway any second. Apart from that Sam isn’t here but holding watch over his baby and hoping that it doesn’t follow his mother. Apart from that Dean might still be following Jess’ footsteps, and taking Rob and Ben with him. Yeah, everything is wrong.

“You like cooking. I should have asked,” Cas repeats stubbornly.

Dean sighs and rubs his hand over his face. He’s still so tired like he hasn’t slept at all. “I’ve made changes, Cas. You wouldn’t notice because you don’t cook. But the bowls are stacked overhead now, and the big plates are below. Because we don’t use them as often as the bowls and with this,” he lays a hand on his belly, “it’s easier for me if I don’t have to bend down.”

Cas takes that in silently.

“I’m not helpless, Cas. I can do small shit on my own.” He regrets it the moment it’s out of his mouth. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’m just so tired.”

Cas nods, accepting the apology without forgiving himself, Dean thinks. But he’s too tired for that, too. “You want a medium high heat on that. Put a bit of oil in the pan. And around a quarter cup batter per pancake.”

“I know how to make pancakes, Dean.” It’s a statement of fact more than pouting.

Dean acknowledges it with a nod. “I’ll call Sam. Get an update.”

“Do it here?” Cas asks and after a glance into his worried face Dean nods.

He goes to the other end of the kitchen, though, gives himself a bit of room.

It takes a few rings, but then Sam picks up. His voice is leaden it’s so tired. “Dean?”

“Hey. How are you holding up?”

“Jess’ parents have gone home for now. They’ll give me the place and time, though.”

For the funeral. But Sam doesn’t bring himself to say it and Dean doesn’t say it, either. “How’s my namesake doing?”

“You found the nursery,” Sam says tiredly.

“Yeah,” Dean nods.

“She wanted you to be his Godfather, too.”

“She chose the name?”

“ _We_ chose the name. But she suggested it.” There is a tired smile in Sam’s voice. “She likes you, Dean. Liked you,” he corrects and the smile is gone.

There’s nothing to say, just emptiness and pain where his heart is. “We’re going to come to the hospital, okay? As soon as we’re dressed.”

“Okay,” Sam says.

They hang up.

Cas doesn’t burn the pancakes and Sam’s got real maple syrup, the expensive organic shit. But what should taste like sweet fluffy clouds crumbles into ashes on Dean’s tongue.

“Me, too, Dean,” Cas says when he notices the face Dean is making. “But you got to eat.”

Dean nods, silently, and even takes one of the apples and cuts it into pieces to eat before Cas can remind him of the importance of vitamins. The apple tastes like ashes as well.

 

The hospital is still the same. His brother looks smaller and greyer. He gets up from his chair but every movement is sluggish, like his body is reacting just a few milliseconds too slow.

“Have you eaten anything?” Cas asks.

Sam shakes his head.

“I’ll get you something. Are you good here, Dean?”

Dean nods and Cas is off again.

“He is like that,” Dean says. “Having something to do, contributing, making sure everyone’s physical needs are met, makes him feel better. Like he isn’t helpless.” When really Cas is just as helpless as they are.

“Like you’re so different.” The smile is slight.

Dean shrugs. “But I'm not used to it being someone else making me pancakes.”

“How are you anyway?” Sam asks.

Dean thinks that it’s not right, that he should be asking Sam that question. But he can also see how he wouldn’t want to think about the answer if he was Sam. How he’d rather focus on someone else. “Feeling like a time bomb,” he answers. “I do what they tell me, Pam and Cas. But no one can say whether it’ll make a difference.”

“Yeah,” Sam nods.

“How’s the pup doing?” Dean asks and asks the easier question.

“His vitals are stable. But his lungs aren’t working properly. So they’re keeping him on a machine for now.”

“He’s not any earlier than Mary was.”

Sam laughs a hollow laugh. “But his birth was more complicated.”

Dean laughs, too, then, because Jesus Christ, that is ridiculous. Up to the point where it isn’t.

“He didn’t get enough oxygen. During the birth. Cause Jess died before –,” Sam breaks off. “So they’re keeping him on the machine for now. They try to make sure there’s no lasting damage.”

“When will they know about that?”

Sam shrugs.

“Do you have the results from the screening back yet?”

“Not the lab results. But his heart looks fine. They want to repeat the test for his hearing after he’s off the machines. Apparently that’s routine.”

“Okay,” Dean nods. “That’s the best news you can expect I guess.”

“Yeah,” Sam agrees. Anything that’s not bad news is good news right now.

Cas comes back then and hands a cheese and cucumber sandwich and a coke to Sam and a bottle of water to Dean. “Here.”

“Thanks,” Sam says but all he does is stare at the sandwich.

“You gotta eat, man,” Dean encourages him.

“I’m not sure I can.” Sam looks at the sandwich like his stomach is turning just smelling food.

But that won’t do.

“Eat, Sammy,” Dean nudges him. Cas half-smiles at that and Dean frowns. “What, you’re the only one who’s allowed to be bossy?”

“Well, technically speaking…” Sam starts.

“Shut it, Sam. Eat.”

All three of them chuckle, the sound lost in the waiting area, but still a private bubble that is the most in comfort that they can expect today.

 

A nurse comes by a while later, taking Sam with her.

“They’ll try to let him help as much as possible. It’s important that he and the pup bond,” Cas explains.

“So he won’t be back for a while? Want to get some fresh air?”

“Yes, please.”

It’s sunny out, but then, it’s California, it’s expected to be sunny.

“Wish we’d have visited earlier,” Dean says because under different circumstances, it would be quite nice here. “Want to take a stroll around campus?” He holds out his hand to Cas because Sam’s said that they’re going to get away with holding hands in the middle of a crowd here.  

“I love you,” Cas says and takes his hand.

“I know,” Dean han-soloes him and even manages to smile.

They drift closer together the longer they walk, driven into a unit by the happy laughter of the groups of students around them. Sam wasn’t kidding, though, even though the percentage of Alphas is obnoxiously high, not only is no one batting an eye, in the opposite, people smile at them. Even when Cas exchanges holding hands for slinging an arm around Dean’s waist. A few people even tell them congratulations, and they get flyers for a debate club, a support group for students with children and for the gay-straight alliance.

“Okay, there’s advantages to an actual campus,” Dean says while he looks through the colorful brochures.

Cas’ smile is tense. “Would you want that?” he asks. “To go to a college with an actual campus?”

“I would have when I was their age,” Dean shrugs.

“You’re not technically that much older.”

“Yeah I am,” Dean answers and leaves it at that. He thinks he was older than them when he was 16. Their free laughter was never his. But that’s not what Cas needs to hear. “It ain’t a happy day today, Cas. So it hurts. Seeing them so carefree when it feels like our world is getting ripped apart. But I wouldn’t want to trade places with them.” Just thinking about it makes him snuggle closer. Living here? Without Cas, without his baby girl? No. Never.

“I love you so much,” Cas whispers into Dean’s hair when he hugs him and there’s the bitter scent of loss in it. Like Cas is already bracing himself for the moment he’s going to be Sam.

“I ain’t gonna go easy, Cas. I’m gonna fight my way back to you with all that I have.” It’s the only promise Dean can make.

“Then don’t ask me not to choose you this time.” It comes out in a whisper, barely more than a breath.

Guilt, Dean thinks. Cas is feeling guilt for this. “Hey, look at me, Cas.”

It takes a moment, and yeah, that’s definite guilt. Because it’s not a thing he should be asking Dean for. He feels selfish.

So Dean stands up straight and looks his mate in the eyes when he says, “You’re a doctor, Cas. You’ll know what decision is right. So I’m telling you this while I have all my wits about me: You make the choice that you think has the best outcome. Can’t really promise you I’ll say the same when – but if I do, this here is my actual opinion. Told to you while I’m not in pain. While I’m not dying. You make that choice, Cas.”

It doesn’t make anything easier. It doesn’t take a load off of Cas’ mind. In the opposite, judging by how his scent darkens, the idea of choosing between his mate and his pups threatens like a dark cloud on the horizon. Still, “Thank you,” Cas breathes and there is something like relief in it.

And yeah, Dean thinks, it’s right not to let Cas go through this again. Cas will never not try to save Dean. So making him feel guilty about it won’t serve any purpose. Dean tries a smile. “No need to thank me, little Alpha. You know that I trust you.”

More so than he did even at Mary’s birth.

“Dean, I – I know it’s not the right time to talk of this, but, can we – after Rob and Ben are born, can we have a talk about whether or not we want to take this risk again? Because I’m not sure I want to. And I wasn’t sure even before Jess.”

Dean can pinpoint that down for Cas. From the moment that Pam told them that it would be best to decide on one of the embryos, that’s when Cas wasn’t sure anymore that it was worth the risk. Because Dean felt the same.

“Yeah, Cas, we can.”

Cas looks insanely grateful and it gives Dean’s heart a stab. It’s like sometimes Cas is so focused on not doing anything wrong, that he forgets that they are a team. That he has every right to ask things of Dean.

“This isn’t about you, Cas. Or about me. It’s about _us_.” Dean takes Cas’ hand and lays it over his heart for emphasis. “Of course we’re going to decide it together.”

There’s a small smile while Cas’ fingers curl into Dean’s shirt. It isn’t much, but it’s real. “I’m sorry if I’ve been a jerk lately.”

Dean shakes his head and wraps his own fingers around Cas’. “You haven’t been. You’ve been a protective Alpha, that’s all. I kind of fully expect you to keep being that, too.”

“Thank you,” Cas repeats.

“Hey,” Dean chuckles. “It’s fine. You didn’t even burn the pancakes.”

 

**Day 2**

Despite the fact that they’re exhausted, sleep proves elusive for the second night in a row.

Maybe it’s the fact that they sent Sam home with them with strict instructions that he needs to sleep and shower before he can come back. He’s less of a hassle than Cas had been, but Cas had had Dean to keep watch over. Sam only has condemning stares to suffer.

Because the Moores are back. Not all of them anymore, but taking turns. They don’t trust Sam to keep them updated about the pup. They don’t trust Sam, period. And they blame him for what has happened. They’re too classy to fight it out with words or fists, but every look they shoot Sam tells the same story.

So Cas and Dean take Sam home. Make him shower. Put him to bed.

And now it’s morning and Sam’s sitting on his bed, head hanging, and Dean doesn’t think he has moved in hours. Or slept at all. The scent in the room is all Alpha, though it’s made soft by the lingering odor of pregnancy. They haven’t changed the sheets, not wanting to do it without Sam’s agreement.

Dean goes in quietly, still in pajama bottoms and a ratty old shirt that has grown with him over time and is soft and comfortable. He sits down heavily next to his brother. “How are you holding up?” he asks him, though it’s a stupid question. Dean can see he’s not holding up.

“I keep checking that my phone still got battery and that I didn’t accidentally put it on mute. But then when I’m checking it, I want to hear her voice, so I dial her number and every time I expect – but of course it just goes to voice mail… All she says on that is her name, the rest is the machine,” Sam shrugs, the gesture jostling the phone in his hand.

“Give me the phone,” Dean says and holds out his hand.

“What?” Sam asks and holds the phone to his chest as if to protect it.

“I’ll check it for you. I’ll make sure it has battery. You won’t miss any calls.”

There is a long moment of hesitation.

“Come on, Sammy.” Dean scoots up on the bed until he’s leaning against the headrest. “I’ll be right here, watching over you. I’ve always kept you safe.”

It’s a lie. Dean hasn’t kept him safe from this and a million other things. Doesn’t know how. But it’s a lie that they both want to believe in so it’s convincing enough that Sam hands over the phone. He curls up next to Dean and pulls the comforter up around him.

“Sleep, Sammy. Just for a while.”

Sam curls into his side like he did when they were pups and he was smaller than Dean, and Dean lays his arm around Sam’s back and lets him breathe in his scent, different now than when they were kids, but at least neither Jess’ scent nor hospital smell.

They manage a couple of hours like this, Sam sinking into the leaden sleep of the deadly exhausted, Dean closing his eyes and letting his head rest against the headboard. Cas checks up on them after a while but when Dean shakes his head, he doesn’t disturb them. Dean can hear his voice in the other room, though. Several calls, to Hannah and Gabriel, Dean guesses.

He wonders how Mary is coping. Hopefully Cas checks up on her. She doesn’t understand the phone all that well yet, but something is better than nothing. They never planned on leaving her alone [again] that long. But bringing her here – no, not an option. And Gabriel is a great uncle.

 

They get Sam to eat some toast when he wakes up, no more than that, nothing else. Cas declares him unfit for driving and so they all go back to the hospital together.

Jess’ parents have gone again, apparently satisfied that their grandpup is stable, so it’s just Cas and Dean waiting while Sam goes to see his son. He comes back out after half an hour. “He’s stable now. If you want to see him.”

Dean does, of course he does, so he gets clad in scrubs and gets a mask over his face. After he’s scrubbed his hands thoroughly, he follows the nurse into the NICU.

“Dean’s not born that early, so he looks bigger than some of the others here. But he didn’t get enough oxygen during birth and he has some trouble in that department, so we’re still helping him breathe.”

It’s a non-threatening way of putting it but seeing it, Dean’s heart shrinks about two sizes. His namesake looks tiny under the tube sticking out of his mouth and there’s electrodes and wires on his chest.

“But he’s going to be okay?” Dean asks and has to start the sentence twice because his voice won’t cooperate.

“We most definitely hope so,” the nurse smiles kindly.

“Can I?” Dean asks and the nurse nods.

Baby Dean is an incubator, but it has openings with build-in gloves that he can reach through.

“For now, we’re keeping his body temperature a little lower than normal. It helps combat any long-term effects from the complicated birth.”

“For how long?” With the gloves on, Dean can’t really feel much when he softly pats Baby Dean’s head. The pup turns into the caress, though, which Dean guesses is a good sign.

“Not that much longer anymore. He’s over the hump.”

“That’s good,” Dean says, “that’s very good.”

It doesn’t feel like it, though, not with the baby looking so small and not opening his eyes. Not with how awfully this reminds him of Mary’s birth and the pain associated with that.

“Are you okay?” The nurse asks and lays a gentle hand on Dean’s arm.

Of course his scent is all over the place anyway, and this is not making anything better. “I’m sorry,” Dean mumbles.

“Don’t be. Seeing an innocent creature in an environment like this elicits strong feelings in many people.”

“Yeah,” Dean nods, “plus I kinda almost died when my daughter got born.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the nurse smiles sympathetically.

“Don’t be. It worked out better for us than for Jess. Even though,” Dean smiles self-consciously, “this time it’s twins.”

“This had nothing to do with whatever gives you trouble,” the nurse says, her voice now firm. “It’s not a sign and you’re not next. What happened during this birth is complications that are due to Alpha anatomy. I am very sorry for your loss, but please, it doesn’t mean anything bad for you or your pups.”

“I know,” Dean nods placatingly. It’s not a lie, either. He strokes a finger down the side of baby Dean’s face, careful not to disturb the tube. “You just hold on, Little One. Let them help you breathe as long as you need it and then keep breathing on your own, alright? Don’t give up on us.”

The nurse clears her throat quietly. “If you don’t mind me asking, are you going to stay for a bit? Your brother could use some help.”

“I don’t know,” Dean shakes his head. “This all happened very suddenly and we didn’t talk about it yet. We’ve got a pup and a pack to get back to. My mate’s the pack-Alpha.”

The nurse nods in understanding but she says, “It’s maybe not my place to say, but someone should stay with your brother. Or maybe he could locate to you. He’s going to need help. I mean, he’s very determined, but the pup will need extra attention and with the broken mating bond, he might not be able to provide it.”

“They didn’t get around to get mated yet.”

The nurse nods. “I know. That makes it somewhat easier because the chemical reaction to the loss is less distinct. But – frankly, I’m worried. A new child is a big responsibility and Dean will need special care. Being a single father and –“

“And an Alpha,” Dean says when she doesn’t finish her sentence. “You’d be less worried if he was an Omega like me.”

“No,” the nurse shakes her head. “I’d be just as worried. It’s only that people forget. They look at Alphas and they seem so strong that people forget that Alphas break like anyone else. That they mourn as deeply as Omegas, even if they show it differently. So they don’t offer the same kind of help.”

And that’s not a way that Dean has ever looked at this. But it makes sense. “We’ll try and work something out,” he nods.

 

**Day 4**

It’s like living with a ghost. Mostly, Sam is at the hospital anyway, but when he’s home, he doesn’t talk, doesn’t eat, just wanders aimlessly about staring at pictures or retreats to his bedroom immediately.

Dean has taken it upon himself to wash the sheets, at least. Sam’s stared blankly at the bed when he noticed. The same stare showed up again when Jess’ towels weren’t in the bathroom anymore. It’s all Dean dares to change. It’ll need time, he knows that, but it seems like unnecessary torture to sleep in a slowly fading scent.

Not that Sam sleeps much. Sometimes, he locks himself into the bedroom, sometimes he allows Dean to come in and comfort him. They don’t talk, then, just hold each other close in that huddle they’ve perfected as pups. Grief and guilt share equal portions of Sam’s scent and Dean doesn’t like that at all.

Cas’ phone calls home get longer and longer, pack business not waiting for him and he borrows Sam’s notebook so that Charlie and Hannah can skype with him and they can exchange notes on the most pressing issues.

Dean finds it more important that he also gets to skype with his daughter. She’s confused as to why he is on a screen and starts whining, but she looks healthy, Gabe caring well for her. Still, Dean’s heart aches and with it his body, he misses her so much.

There is a date set for the funeral now, within the week as is tradition. But it’s complicated because it’s on Moore pack territory. They understand that they need to let Sam in, but it costs Cas a few heated calls before he and Dean are also invited.

Dean is glad about that. That his mate effortlessly falls into a routine organizing their days. He’s the only one fit for it. Cause Sam is a ghost and Dean is exhausted.

It becomes ever more noticeable. So for once, they let Sam go to the hospital alone, calling him a taxi instead of letting him drive. The exhaustion overwhelms Dean the minute his brother is out of the house and he doesn’t have to look after him anymore. He stumbles in the guest bedroom, and barely makes it to the bed before the overwhelming tiredness drops him like a stone.

A minute later, Cas is by his side, some herbal tea concoction in a steaming mug in front of him.

“How did you manage that in under a minute?” Dean asks, making an effort to prop himself up enough to take the mug from Cas.

“Magic,” Cas smiles, but his smile is no less weary than Dean’s.

“Want to sit with me for a bit?”

“It’s not a good idea. I don’t know how I’ll get back up again.”

“Then don’t. Let’s take a nap together.”

The temptation is stronger than Cas’ will to get back to the notebook, and he sinks down on his side of the bed with a sigh. “I didn’t know I could be this tired.”

Dean knows what he means. It isn’t even the physical tiredness, though that is undeniably there, it is the grief and the pain that exhaust them beyond Mary’s most sleepless nights. “Me, too.”

Cas lays a hand on Dean’s belly.

“They’re asleep.”

“But they’re moving?”

“Yes,” Dean nods. “I think they’re getting stronger, too. Though they seem to be avoiding the kidneys. I’m kind of grateful for that.”

Cas snorts softly, though the happiness in his eyes is subdued.

“Think it means something that they’re not kicking as viciously as Mary?”

“According to the ultrasounds, they’re completely healthy, Dean.”

Dean shrugs. “Gender maybe?”

Cas raises his eyebrows. “Are you gender-stereotyping our children before they are even born?”

“Hey, who knows.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “Alpha strength doesn’t even develop until puberty. And be honest, who do you think kicked their parent more, Gabriel or Sam?”

Dean chuckles and leans into Cas’ shoulder. “Alright, Alpha, you win this round. I’m going with we don’t know their secondary gender but these two are coming after you and hence are somewhat politer than Mary who’s coming after me.”

“I hope they still turn out as sunny as her, though.”

“Yeah, I have no idea who she’s got that from. Must be a side-strand of our DNA.”

Cas is silent for a long moment, then he says, “You know that you are quite a happy person normally, right?”

And no, Dean doesn’t really know that. Or has at least never classified himself as that. But thinking about it, yeah, when everyone’s healthy and no one’s life is in danger, he doesn’t actually usually bitch or grumble too much. “Guess you’re right,” he says. “Never really saw myself as the sunny kind of guy, but all in all, guess I’m not too bad.” He knows why, too. “You make it easy for me.”

He kisses his mate’s neck where he’s snuggled into him and it elicits a satisfied grumble. Dean can literally feel the tension draining out of Cas at the touch. Yeah, they’re so going to fall asleep here, there’s not even a question. Dean smiles his first real smile in days into Cas’ skin. Whatever else happened, he’s still got this. It makes him happy.

They doze for the better part of two hours, until the pups wake up and even though they’re still avoiding the major internal organs, it’s enough commotion for Dean to wake up. He props himself up on his pillow and strokes his hands softly over his tummy. “Now, now, try to wait with the fighting until you’re born.”

Cas mumbles something in his sleep, obviously having noticed in his half-awake state that his mate is not in his arms anymore.

“I’m here, Cas. It’s all good, you can sleep some more,” Dean says softly and strokes his hand through Cas’ hair.

Cas rolls closer then and wraps his arms around Dean’s legs.

“Octopus,” Dean mumbles fondly but makes no move to disentangle himself. There’s been so few moments of peace lately, Cas deserves every sorrow-free moment he can find.

It doesn’t last long, though. With Dean awake and his thoughts drifting back to his brother and his nephew (and his scent no doubt darkening with it), Cas wakes up soon enough.

“You’re thinking,” Cas complains.

“Yeah,” Dean agrees. “I’m thinking that we can’t leave him alone. He’s not going to manage when the pup comes home.”

“Your brother,” Cas sighs and rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

“Who else would I be thinking about?” Dean says.

Cas doesn’t bother with listing any of the other possibilities that Dean is well aware off (their own pups just to list the nearest one) and instead asks reasonably, “Have you talked to Sam about what his plans are?”

“No, not yet,” Dean shakes his head.

“Maybe you should do that first.”

“It’s not especially easy to talk to him right now. I mean, you know how he’s been.”

Cas sits up fully, completely awake now. “Do you want me to talk to him? Though that would probably be a very different talk from how it’d go with you.”

“Why?” Dean wants to know.

“Because you’re his brother. He shares with you. I’m his pack-Alpha. I can tell him we want him and the pup home until everything is more stable.”

“Cause telling Sam to do shit works so well usually,” Dean snorts.

“Which is why I think you should talk to him. I’m aware of the Winchester-stubbornness. I’m not keen on triggering it.”

“Like I give you any trouble with anything ever,” Dean huffs.

“Because I know when to not even try,” Cas argues.

And yeah, it’s only semi-seriously, but Dean’s got a feeling it still means that they’re steering towards an argument. So Dean abruptly averts his eyes. Because he can’t. Not today. Not with everything that’s been happening.

The silence comes back, for a moment anyway. Cas clears his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“’S okay,” Dean mumbles. “I know I’m not reacting very gracefully to this whole bedrest for months thing. I’ll try harder.”

“Dean, that’s not what I -,” Cas breaks off with a sigh. “You have every right to be upset. And I know that I’m not always helping.”

Dean knows his answering smile is weak, but it’s the best he can do right now. The thing is, he is grateful to have Cas. Every minute of every day. Even when he bucks against the limitations that his current condition give him and the fact that Cas enforces them. Dean’s upset with the situation and his helplessness, not with his mate. But that doesn’t mean that there aren’t moments where he wants to yell and throw things at him when he sensibly argues why Dean should go rest and drink more water and eat more vitamins and no, pie doesn’t count. The fact that Dean’s been advised against physical exertion of any kind does not help, either. One reliable mood-brightener gone.

“Hold me?” Dean asks, because that at least is something they’re allowed to do.

Cas frowns for a heartbeat, like the request wasn’t what he expected to hear, but then he scoots closer, puts his arms around Dean. Dean lets his forehead sink to Cas’ shoulder, soaks in the honey that can never be completely dampened down.

Dean’s got the better deal in this, in a way. Barring a catastrophe that has nothing to do with this, Dean’s going to have a mate to keep him safe through all of it. Yeah, there is a possibility that Cas can’t keep him safe in the end. That the grey ocean that he dimly remembers from when he passed out during Mary’s birth is going to claim him this time. But at least for Dean that’s the end. He won’t be able to miss his mate and pups. He won’t go crazy with the loss of them. Because he’ll be gone. Cas is going to be the one who has to keep himself together. Who can’t go off the deep end no matter how much he wants to.

“You’d have each other,” he says and looks up to look at Cas. “I know it sounds horrible, but if Sam moved back, then no matter what happens to me, you’d have each other.”

“You’re right. It sounds horrible.”

“I want you safe, Cas. You and Sam both. Safe and happy. And I know I can do jackshit to make that happen, but at least, I don’t know, at least this way I’d know you both have someone to look out for you.”

There’s tears in his eyes then, though they’re mainly angry because he hates being helpless and he hates that Sam walks around like a ghost and Cas is smelling of loss and he can’t protect either of them or his baby-girl from any of this. He hates it, he hates it, he hates it.

Cas’ arms are engulfing him then, tighter than before, and he notices that he’s actually started crying. Started crying because none of this is fair and Jess shouldn’t have died and Dean shouldn’t die and Rob and Ben and Mary and Baby-Dean deserve to have all their parents and Dean knows how it was to grow up without his Mom and it sucked and it’s like this is a Winchester family curse and what did they ever do to deserve this?

 

**Day 6**

Dean’s got nothing to wear. It shouldn’t be his most pressing problem. Not with the way Sam’s face looks hollow or the way he sleeps badly enough that Cas sends him back to bed more often than not after breakfast.

But this is for Jess, and Dean and her had a rough start but he’s genuinely come to like her and he can’t wrap his head around it that she’s gone. It doesn’t make much difference anymore but he wants to at least show how much respect he had for her. So he wants to be the best he can be for the funeral. But he’s already running up against a wall because most of his black clothes are too tight. Not that he brought that many. Which means that he ends up wearing black jeans with an elastic band and one of his brother’s button-downs. It’s too big on him and he has to roll up the sleeves. It makes him feel like a kid playing dress-up for the occasion and it isn’t like he isn’t self-conscious enough already.

Because Jess’ pack is rich and conservative and while her parents have defied their own clan on more than one occasion, they weren’t exactly open to Sam’s and Jess’ relationship.

So Dean feels out of place from the beginning, underdressed in comparison to his mate and his brother, who are both in black suits, black ties hanging solemnly from their necks, and the slimy feeling of not being good enough immediately crops up.

Especially since it’s obvious that, California or not, rich people hold themselves to the standards of society. Dean thinks he’s going to hurl when he sees the first collar on someone and it actually takes Cas’ stabilizing hand on his arm to keep moving. But at least it makes clear what is expected of him. Which is even less participation than in Kansas City.

Not that anyone really talks to Sam or Cas, either. They say their condolences, Sam with a voice so choked that Dean isn’t sure how he doesn’t give up at all. But all they get in return are icy stares and silent nods. Dean wants to growl and bare his teeth at them, because godfuckingdammit, they’re all blaming Sam and it is not his fault. He’d have given his life to defend Jessica, Dean knows it and they should know it, too.

But of course he doesn’t tell them. He guesses he could and it would be a short shouting match and then they’d get thrown out, whatever satisfaction he’d feel over standing up to the assholes blown away by the fact that he’s robbed his brother of the chance to attend his dead mate’s funeral.

So instead he grits his teeth and keeps his quiet. Doesn’t complain that they’re ending up on the fringes instead of at the front where Sam should be. Keeps his head down and lets the words of the priest wash over him without listening.

Until he feels a prickle at his back, that is.

He ignores it at first, then, when it persists, he moves half a step closer to Cas. Makes sure that whoever it is that is staring at him knows he’s here with his Alpha.

Cas turns around with the movement and lets his eyes swipe over the congregation. Apparently finding nothing out of the ordinary, he turns back to the front.

The feeling abates for a moment with Cas’ gesture but comes back. It makes him itchy and nervous and he wants to move. But everyone is rooted in place, so instead, he tries to be unobtrusive about figuring out who is in his line of sight. Most of Jess’ family stands further to the front than them, it being pack members and business associates, having shown up more out of respect for the family than because they knew Jess, that are on their level.

It doesn’t take too long to make out the source of the feeling.

A tall guy, well-tailored suit, standing off to the side, apparently having brought his mate, too. Dean averts his eyes again, because fuck, that’s one of the guys with a collar. Subconsciously, he leans another bit closer to Cas. What the hell is a guy with a collared mate doing staring at him?

He risks another look, just to figure out whether he’s maybe staring at someone else. But Sam, Cas and Dean are their own little unit, the Moore pack leaving some space to either side. And the guy is definitely staring at them.

Maybe it’s because of Sam? Because he’s the almost-mate and someone who collars his Omega can’t be in favor of an Alpha-Alpha relationship. A cold shudder runs down Dean’s back. He looks past the dark haired Alpha to the blonde Omega behind him. He’s a good inch taller than his Alpha, very much the same proportions Dean and Cas have. Only where Dean is curious and looking around, the other Omega stays motionless. Dean can’t see much of him past the Alpha, but Dean think he has his hands meekly folded and is looking down at them. He tries to make out more, whether the Omega is relaxed at least next to his Alpha or whether it makes him tense and uncomfortable, being reduced to being silent and not ever looking up.

But they are too far away, Dean can’t make out any details. He turns back towards Cas and Sam. He’s got to ask them later whether either of them knows the strange Alpha. It’s possible that it’s someone from Jess’ pack that Sam has met before.

Dean sends a silent sorry towards Jess then, for coming down so hard on her that first time they’d met. If she was used to this, then it’s no wonder that she thought Dean and Gabe were oppressed. Dean shifts enough that Cas partially blocks him from view for the creep and tries to concentrate back on the sermon. They’re nearing the end of it already and then the family starts to throw flowers and dirt into the open grave.

Sam looks horrified. “Can we – can we please just go? I can’t. I can’t do this.”

“Okay,” Cas immediately agrees. “Of course we can.”

But they’re still on someone else’s territory, so the same way they made their entry to the territory known, they need to take their leave. Cas is stone-faced and Sam is pale when they make it to Jess’ Uncle.

“Thank you for letting us attend,” Cas nods at the Alpha. “And our deepest condolences for your loss.”

The other pack-Alpha growls lowly. “I let you attend because it is the decent thing to do. But don’t think this is over yet. You’ll hear from my lawyer.”

“About what?” Cas asks confused.

“If you think for one second that I’m leaving my niece’s child with the _queer_ who got her killed, you’re mistaken. The pup is a part of my pack and I’ll get him back.”

“You have no legal grounds to threaten any such action,” Cas replies harshly. “Sam is the child’s Sire and he is a member of my pack. The child will be well taken care of.”

“We’ll see about what grounds I have or don’t have. And you, boy,” he turns to Sam, “will regret the day you met my niece.”

“Sam, don’t,” Cas holds a hand out to hold Sam back but it isn’t necessary. Sam just turns around and flees.

Dean is torn between following his brother and staying by his mate’s side. In the end, his mate wins out. His brother will be waiting by their car. And he doubts this talk will last much longer.

“Don’t you dare threaten my family,” Cas growls. “I may not look it, but my pack is at least as old as yours and we have enough power to counter whatever you throw at us.”

“Oh, I know all about your pack, Alpha Novak,” the other pack-Alpha says and Dean doesn’t like the tone one bit. “I know all about how you got to be their Alpha, too. Wouldn’t surprise me very much if it’s not only your brother-in-law, but if you’d go down in this fight as well.”

“You obviously have no idea about my pack or you’d know how ridiculous you sound,” Cas says tersely but Dean can feel the undertone of worry.

“No, obviously I haven’t,” the Moore-Alpha mocks. “Let’s see whether you still say that after we’re through. And now would you excuse me, I have actual family to comfort.”

He turns on his heels.

Cas takes a moment to shake himself out of it but then he turns, too. “Come on,” he says quietly, “let’s get out of here.”

They’re already in the car and on their way to the hospital by the time Dean remembers the dark-haired Alpha who’d been staring at them. He never got the chance to ask Sam or Cas about him after all.

 

**Day 8**

If Sam was a ghost before the funeral, he is completely unresponsive after. The only times he shows any sign of life is when he’s in the hospital with his son.

Fortunately, there’s good news on this front at least. Baby-Dean is still wearing a monitor to alert the nurses if he stops breathing, but he’s off the machine and out of the restricted NICU. This means that Sam is now allowed to stay as long as he wants, and to help feed and change his pup, and because Cas is both a doctor and very persuasive when he wants to be, Dean and Cas are allowed in the room, too. They’ve made sure that the doctors know that no one else is supposed to come in unaccompanied, either.

Dean and Sam take turns with the kangaroo hold, still remembering it from Mary. Cas keeps his distance for now, though he looks at the pup with soft eyes. But Sam’s definitely not good and adding the stress of another Alpha competing for his pup is not going to help.

For Dean, though, the time that he can hold the pup against his chest and rock him to sleep softly is like a piece of Heaven. It’s peaceful and calm and the pup smells sweet and accepts him without any fuss. It makes Dean long for his daughter something fierce, to smell her scent and hold her in his arms instead of just skypeing with her, though she’s at least gotten better at not throwing a tantrum at that. But it’s been almost two weeks since he last saw her and that’s too long.

Still, Baby-Dean brings his own kind of love and peace, and he slobbers quietly onto Dean’s shoulder, while Dean makes sure that his little preemie hat stays where it’s supposed to be.

It’s one of those moments, Baby-Dean having fallen asleep on Dean’s shoulder, Sam slumped on the bed for the parent that the hospital keeps in every room, that Dean finally finds the courage to ask Sam, “Come home with us.”

Sam doesn’t answer, his eyes hollow and the shadows in his face too dark.

“I know you’re attached to your life here but she’s gone, Sam. Clinging to an apartment won’t bring her back. And I don’t want you here on your own.”

Not just because of Sam possibly being overwhelmed by caring for the little one. Also because it’s so much easier to steal him away here than at their pack, should the Moore-Alpha actually make good on his threats.

“She built him his nursery.”

“We can pack it up and assemble it again at home. Sam, let us help. Please.”

“I’ve got a scholarship. I’m going to lose that.”

“Yeah,” Dean says because in all likelihood he will, whether he stays here or comes with them.

“Yeah,” Sam nods tiredly like he just needed to hear it from someone else even while he already knew the truth of it.

“You can take a semester or two off. There’s circumstances after all. Even if you lose the scholarship, they won’t throw you out of school. And then come back after. With or without the scholarship.”

“Yeah,” Sam nods again but this time it doesn’t sound like he’s sure about it. He looks so goddamn tired.

“Want to hold your pup?” Dean asks because that’s something that always makes him feel better.

“It’ll wake him up.”

“And he’ll be back asleep in a minute,” Dean says and carefully gets up without jostling the pup in his arms. “Come on, Sammy, sit up and open your shirt.”

Sam’s sluggish, his movements slower than normal, and it worries Dean. He carefully shushes Baby-Dean when he hands him over and then stays next to his brother to make sure that he’s okay to hold the pup.

“Sam, you gotta come home with us,” Dean begs. “A pup is enough work when you’re two people. But you’re alone and you’re grieving. You can’t do this on your own.” He doesn’t want his voice to become harsher, doesn’t want it to become the voice Dad always used. So he makes an effort to soften his words and tone. “You’re going to be a good father, Sam. I know it. But the first few months are sleepless anyway. At home, we can share the nightshifts. Make it easier on you. And we can protect the pup better on our territory. In case the Moores…”

He doesn’t go on when he sees how Sam tightens his hold around his son. Sam knows all of this.

“Okay,” Sam says and sounds defeated. “Okay, I’m coming home with you.”

 

**Day 12**

There’s a lot to organize. A lot. Sam mostly stays at the hospital with his pup, so it falls to Cas and Dean to sort the logistics. Which means the task ends mostly on Cas’ shoulders. Him being the Alpha and all. He is a champ about it, too, has managed to hire a moving company to get Sam’s stuff from California to the pack, and simultaneously has gotten the preparations at home going so that Sam and the pup will find everything ready for them to move in.

Even with all of that, Cas still finds the time to annoy Dean about eating regularly and getting enough sleep, though. 24 hour Alpha surveillance is in full effect.

“Go to bed, Dean. Lay down and rest,” Cas says when he hangs up the phone after talking to Hannah about the nursery preparations for Baby-Dean.

“Sam’s at the hospital, you have logistics stuff to do, these things are not going to pack themselves,” Dean points out and holds up the picture frame he was just wrapping to put in a box.

“The movers are going to pack them then. Don’t strain yourself. Go rest.”

Dean rolls his eyes. Yeah, he’s stressed out and tired and his back aches and that makes everything harder, but, “I can still be helpful.”

“Bed. Now.” It’s not loud but the Alpha command in the short words tugs at Dean anyway.

“Alright,” he gives in, carefully puts down the picture frame, turns on his heels and marches out.

To tell the truth, he does hurt and laying down feels good on that end. It’s not unusual, he’s had back pains and swollen feet with Mary, too. But it’s different now, with the knowledge that things can go South fast. Lying in bed does not provide any relief beyond the physical. Because he’s in a room that’s not his home, all on his own without his mate or pup, in a house that smells like grief. And all of that makes him more frazzled, not less. And whenever he tries to calm himself with thoughts of home, the fact that he’ll probably spend the next few months in his bed there comes back to mind, and that kind of makes him want to walk out of the door and never come back.

But that’s not an option, so he sighs and stares at the ceiling. It’s painted in a nice beige, no discernable cracks. It provides neither insights nor comfort. He tries closing his eyes, but while he’s wiped it is not in the sleepy way. He’s wiped in the way that being anxious for a prolonged period of time does to you.

So all that closing his eyes does is bring thoughts of the hospital.

The doctors have tried to talk to Sam. To get him to take some medication to compete against the dissolution of his bond with Jess. Yeah, they didn’t have the bite. That makes it somewhat easier. But their bond was still deep. The doctors are unhappy with Sam. Unsure whether it’s a good idea to give a pup to a mourning Alpha-Sire who refuses medication for his grief. But the Little One is almost ready to go home. They’ll have to make the decision soon.

“Dean?” Cas knocks on the open door. “Can I come in?” He has a steaming mug in his hand, another of his herbal tea concoctions.

“Sure,” Dean nods.

Cas isn’t too subtle about sniffing Dean’s scent out over the herbal essence of the tea and Dean lets him.

“Have no idea how you’re doing that,” Dean says, carefully holding the mug even though he’d wager that the tea has just the right temperature that Dean could sip it without burning his tongue. Because that’s the kind of obnoxiously perfect supportive Alpha that Cas is. The kind that brings the tea when it has the exact right temperature. “How can you even differentiate which kind of pain it is?” Dean asks.

“Is it your back?” Cas asks. “Or do you have pains in your abdomen?”

“It’s just the back, Cas, relax,” Dean answers. “But really, how can you tell the difference?” Because when the most prominent pain is emotional, Cas stays close, gives Dean as much physical contact as he can. When the pain is physical, he tells him to lay down and brings him calming teas.

“I just can,” Cas shrugs. “Though it’s easier now than normal.”

Dean nods. It makes sense that Cas can figure out his scent in even greater detail right now. The Alpha brand of biological focus, making sure mate and pup have the best chances of survival their Alpha can give them.

“Things are moving along quite well. We can leave when the doctors give the okay. Though I’ve tried to spread rumors in Palo Alto that we’re going to stay a while because the pup’s too unstable to travel.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Is that necessary?”

“I felt like it wasn’t a good idea to tell the Moores exactly when we’re going.”

“You think they’re going to try something shitty?”

Cas weighs his head from side to side. “I can’t be sure. But they’ve been trying to contact the hospital. I’m sure they’re at the very least preparing an injunction. I’d like to be on our own lands by the time that letter reaches us.”

Dean doesn’t like the sound of that at all. He guesses an injunction is better than outright trying to steal the pup, but at the same time, Baby-Dean is Sam’s kid. The Moores have no right to take him and they shouldn’t be trying. Dean is pretty sure that Jess wouldn’t have wanted her son to grow up in a conservative environment like the Moore pack, either. But Cas knows all of this, so all Dean says is, “So, is the pup stable enough to fly yet?”

Cas nods. “The doctors want to redo his screening tests. After that, he can be discharged as long as a competent doctor is nearby. Pamela qualifies.”

“So we’re out of here in a couple of days?” Dean asks to make sure.

“Yes.”

“Does Sam know?” Dean moves on to the next question that weighs on his mind.

Cas sighs. “The doctors have told him. I’ve told him. It doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s heard it.”

Dean doesn’t know what to say to that. “Are we bringing the pup here first?”

“No,” Cas shakes his head. “I’ve organized for a nurse to accompany us on the flight. It’s not ideal. But I think it will be easier this way.”

Because Sam can’t bear to look at the disassembled apartment. Because the pain in his eyes and scent is overwhelming when he sees the boxes for the move. Because he stays at the hospital most of the time now, day and night.

“Can I help?” Dean asks because he’s right here and Sam’s not going to be of any help anytime soon.

But Cas shakes his head. “Sam has signed what he needed to sign for the move and everything else is underway.”

“Did he read what he signed?” Dean asks though he already knows the answer.

“I think he got the general gist of it,” Cas sighs. “I made sure that he didn’t sign anything away that might be of sentimental value. The moving company will haul everything to our pack.”

“Thank you for doing this,” Dean says.

Cas smiles tiredly. “Of course, Dean. You know I would never act differently.”

And yeah, Dean knows that, but he also knows that it isn’t as self-evident as Cas makes it out to be. “Don’t think those Alphas with the collared mates would do the same for them. And before you say it, yes, I know. We’ve got nothing in common with them. Doesn’t mean I can’t at least tell you how much I appreciate what we have.”

“That was spooky,” Cas admits. “The funeral. It reminded me of – “

“Of your family,” Dean completes the broken off sentence.

“Yes,” Cas agrees.

“Thanks for not doing that to me,” Dean says dryly.

“Dean…,” Cas’ eyes suddenly hold pain.

“No, Cas, you don’t understand,” Dean interrupts him, ‘if it was a choice between losing you and that, I might just let you’. But he doesn’t say that out loud. He isn’t sure it’s true, either. That he could actually cope with that kind of dynamic and still carve a piece of happiness out for himself. “Just – accept me being grateful, okay?”

“You have nothing to be grateful for,” Cas insists. “I wouldn’t want to live like that any more than you do.”

Dean thinks back to the creep that had stared at them and to the Omega at his side. He wishes he could have gotten close enough to get a whiff of his scent. Anything to figure out how he was feeling. “There was this couple at the funeral. They looked a bit like us. You know, strong dark-haired Alpha, tall, lighter haired Omega. I mean, the Omega wasn’t pregnant, so he was thinner than me, but… They were one of those couples. And the Alpha kept staring at us. I don’t know, it was creepy. Both the staring and that they looked like us.”

“They’re not us,” Cas says with emphasis.

“I know,” Dean agrees. “I just wish – I just wish I knew whether he was okay with it. The Omega. Or whether he’s too beaten down to care anymore. God, I hope he’s at least somewhat okay with it.” Dean doesn’t even know why this is so important to him. Why this random Omega is the one that got his attention. There were plenty others whose positions were no better. But it’s the blonde Omega’s downcast eyes that keep haunting him.

“There is very little we could do either way,” Cas reminds him quietly.

That’s undoubtedly true. Even if they weren’t Moore pack, even if Cas was their pack-Alpha, all he could really do was talk to the Alpha of the couple. Ask him nicely why he thinks it necessary to collar his mate and what it would take to grant his mate a little more freedom. To grant him the right to social contacts. But as long as the Alpha isn’t physically abusing his mate or denying him regular medical check-ups, in the end, all Cas could do is accept whatever answer he gets.

“Is there anyone? In our pack?” Dean asks and isn’t sure whether he really wants the answer. He thinks he knows everyone and would have heard it, but still.

“No,” Cas shakes his head. “No, there isn’t. It was never common practice in our area. Michael and Adam that was – just Michael. It never was the rest of our pack.” He shrugs helplessly.

Well, there aren’t many rich people in their area, either. Not that many dirt poor people, either. But keeping a mate like a pet? It doesn’t work when you have to work for your money and don’t have someone to do your shopping runs and a nanny for the kids who is allowed to talk to the teachers and the coaches.

There is a spasm of pain in his back and Dean puts a hand protectively over his belly. Not his pups. Not his brother’s pup, either. “Feels like running from Kansas City with Sammy all over again, running to make sure the pup doesn’t grow up like that,” he sighs.

“No, it’s different,” Cas says emphatically. “This time, you know where you’re going.”

“True,” Dean nods and squeezes Cas’ hand. “This time, we’re going home.”

 

**Day 14**

It’s almost too easy, dragging Sam out of the hospital and to the airport. Too easy because he doesn’t offer them any resistance. He signs whatever papers the doctors push in front of him, and then follows behind like a lost puppy. Only, Dean is actually carrying the pup and Cas is carrying the pup’s travel bag. Because Sam looks asleep on his feet.

The moving company has packed up all of Sam’s and Jess’ stuff and hauled it out yesterday, leaving behind only their luggage and the essentials the pup and Sam will need for their new start. All of that is now packed into a rental car, ready to go.

But first, they need to meet the nurse that’s going to accompany them. She turns out to be a nice Beta woman, efficient and competent. She lets the doctors explain the baby’s condition to her and then turns to Dean to inspect the pup.

“Hi. Hey, little pup. You look strong already. Your Daddy must be mighty proud of you.”

“Yeah, he is,” Dean nods.

She gives him a smile. “He’ll make it through the flight without a hitch, no worries. His breathing is much improved. And his hearing will follow, I’m sure.”

She is still talking to Dean, so Dean shakes his head. “I’m not his Dad. I’m just his Uncle.”

“Oh,” the Beta stops short. “My apologies.”

“Easy mistake,” Dean placates her. “The moose who’s dead on his feet, that’s his Dad.”

“Nice to meet you,” the nurse smiles at Sam, and he nods back in greeting, but all Dean gets from him is the salty smell of grief and the bitterness of guilt.

“We should go,” Cas urges. “We don’t want to miss our flight.”

“No, wouldn’t want to do _that_ ,” Dean grumbles.

 

Flying back is no more fun than flying here. Only now he’s got his hands full with a grieving brother, a barely stable pup and an unbelievably optimistic nurse. And his mate seems more than willing to leave all interactions to Dean.

In a way, it helps because it gives Dean something to concentrate on that is not his fear. He’s not sure it makes anything better for the other passengers, though. There is the clotting smell of Sam’s grief, the uneasy tension of Cas’ scent, and whatever mixture of anxiety and pregnancy hormones is coming from Dean. The nurse deals well with it, but everyone else keeps giving them looks that have Cas tense up tenfold.

Dean lets himself be boxed in by the window, partially out of the line of sight of everyone else, when Cas urges him to take that seat. He feels like Baby-Dean should be crying. It’s his first time out of the hospital after all and he’s in a strange travel bed with strangers all around. So even though he doesn’t know about the flying steel trap of death yet, he should be crying. But he’s not. His breath is hitching a bit, a tiny sob maybe, but it’s no more than that and the nurse is at his side to calm him down.

Dean wishes it was Sam doing the calming down, but Sam is staring blankly out of the window in the row in front of them. He watches the buildings accelerate and then Dean has to close his eyes when they leap into the air because fuck’s sake this feeling will never get any less awful. But when he opens his eyes again his brother is still staring into the cloudless California sky and down at the extensive urban sprawl. Watches his life with Jess disappear underneath and behind him.

“Sam?” Dean leans forward. He finds himself wishing to ask _are you okay?_ But the question is so dumb under the given circumstances that he doesn’t do it. Of course Sam is not okay. And Dean can’t help.

Sam turns to him, which is more than Dean has expected, and his eyes are swimming in unshed tears. “She’s gone,” he says. Like here, 10 000 feet in the air, is the first time he’s really realized it.

“Yes,” Dean nods. “She’s gone. But the rest of us, we’re still here. Your pup is still here. We still need you.”

Sam abruptly turns away, and it’s all Dean can do to keep in his frustrated sigh. It takes time. He knows it takes time. But the last time a female Alpha died in their family, it didn’t turn out so well for the children involved. Dean would like to spare his namesake some of that pain.

At least they convinced Sam to come back with them. So whatever happens, Dean and Cas will be there to help. So will their Betas. And pretty much the rest of the pack if it becomes necessary. Though he hopes that never happens.

For now, that knowledge has got to be enough. So he settles in, tries to get comfortable in the airplane seat, lost cause that it may be, lays a hand on Cas’ knee to keep himself grounded and closes his eyes to focus on his breathing.

It’s got to be good enough.

 

It’s Balthazar and Gabe who are getting them from the airport. Dean’s almost expected it, but thought that maybe it would be Hannah after all. She doesn’t like giving tasks to others that she thinks fall in her department.

Not that it matters right now. Because Balthazar has Dean’s daughter on his arms and she’s wide-eyed and holds tightly onto her Uncle in the strange surroundings, and there’s really nothing else Dean can focus on but sprinting the last steps towards her.

She crows excitedly when she notices him and stretches out her arms so that he can gather her up and then he’s got her in his arms and he spins her around and she laughs brightly and holds onto him while he’s soaking up her blueberry scent.

“Oh, it’s good to have you back, Sunshine,” he smiles into her skin.

Then Cas is there as well and Mary climbs up on Dean, uncaring about her little feet hitting his stomach and stretches out her hands towards Cas as well. “Dada!”

Dean is unwilling to already let her go again but another kick to the ribs convinces him and he hands her over. Cas has a wide smile on his face as he hugs her. It almost hurts, that smile, Dean hasn’t seen it in so long.

“Welcome back,” Balthazar says from beside him, startling Dean who had forgotten he’s there.

“Glad to be back,” Dean replies. “Did everything go well?”

“We only wanted to kidnap her a tiny bit,” Bal replies.

Dean frowns at that because this is Bal not Gabe. Gabe making jokes like this is one thing, with Bal it skirts the edge of truth and Dean isn’t sure he likes it.

“Hey, no worries, Dean,” Bal calms him down, “we know she isn’t ours. It was probably somewhat too nice having her for a whole two weeks, though. How’s the other little one doing?” He nods towards where Gabe is already plastered over the baby-carrier.

“Better. He’s going to have to go through a few extra check-ups, but he’s doing better.”

“And Sam?”

Sam’s standing next to Gabe and the nurse, but where Gabe is looking up at the nurse from where he’s crouched, and talking animatedly with her, Sam is just kind of towering over them. In another Alpha or at another time, it might come over as threatening. Right now, it only seems like Sam is in a different world.

“He’s keeping it together,” Cas answers instead of Dean. Mary has her arms slung firmly around him. “I guess that’s the most positive thing you can currently say. Everything okay here?”

Bal nods. “Yes. But it’s good to have you back, Alpha.”

Dean’s eyebrows rise. That was a lot more deferential than Bal would usually get.

“You sure everything is okay?” Cas asks, obviously as confused as Dean.

Bal snorts. “You’ll find the sentiment mirrored from everyone who’s suffered through Hannah’s fastidiousness in the past two weeks, I’m sure.”

The worry in Cas’ scent dissipates. “Well, it’s good to know that people look forward to having me back. Let’s see that we get home then.”

Cas keeps Mary in his arms, Bal snatches up their luggage, both of them insisting that Dean shouldn’t be carrying anything, so instead he gets to march next to Gabe, who shoulder-bumps him, but really can’t keep his eyes off the new baby.

“And you honestly called him Dean?” Gabe asks Sam. “You couldn’t have given him the name of someone cooler?”

“Ey!” Dean protests. “I am cool.”

Gabe looks him up and down once, then shakes his head. “Nope, you’re not. Seriously, Sam, you couldn’t have made it Mark or Derrick?”

“Dude, you’re obsessed,” Dean shakes his head.

“Like you’re not watching Dr. Sexy.”

“But I’m not proposing naming pups after the characters!”

“Well, you still have the chance. And since it’s twins, you could use both names!”

“No,” Dean says firmly. “They have names already, thank you very much.”

“They do?” Sam asks suddenly.

Dean hadn’t even been aware that Sam was actually following their awkward banter. “Yeah,” he nods, his hand subconsciously finding its way to his stomach. “We found their names when we were on vacation.”

“You didn’t tell me,” Sam accuses.

Was hardly the time to talk about us, Dean wants to say. And explaining why it was so important to him that they have names already is still not high up on his priority list. “Robert and Benedict,” he says instead. “Rob and Ben.”

Gabe whistles lowly through his teeth. “Not traditional Novak names, either.”

Cas turns around to them. “Because we’re starting our own tradition. They’re going to be the first of a new generation, Mary and Rob and Ben and Dean. We’ll make sure that they grow up free of the baggage of the past.”

It isn’t true, of course. It can’t be true. The past will follow them like it follows their parents. The bad has already started accumulating, with little Dean losing his Mom before ever meeting her.

At the same time, Dean understands what Cas wants to say. And he approves of it whole-heartedly. They’ll teach their pups to be strong and to be kind and to be free. And then maybe together, they can change the world. One small step at a time.

**Author's Note:**

> For everyone who jumped here directly: Jessica dies in childbirth. It sucks. All pups are okay, though, I swear. 
> 
> For everyone who read the whole thing: Feel free to yell at me. I mean, I would be very happy if you refrained from throwing rotten tomatoes or stones or similar items. But you are completely allowed to yell. I’ve debated this installment with myself for a long time. Because I just killed off one half of my queer couple and that goes against all of my instincts. I hate to contribute to the myriad of queer tragedies. But as you can see, I did it anyway. Why? Because in my experience, what happened here is how life works sometimes. You prepare yourself so well for one looming tragedy, only to be hit out of left field by another one. And it sucks. It sucks so bad.


End file.
